


from then to now (and everything between)

by towokuwusatsuwu



Category: HiGH&LOW: the Story of S.W.O.R.D. (TV)
Genre: Character Study, Homophobia, Human Trafficking, Implied Sexual Content, Introspection, M/M, Mentioned at least it's Doubt what do you expect, Multi, Strangers to Friends to Lovers, Trans Male Character
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-25
Updated: 2018-07-25
Packaged: 2019-06-16 01:45:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,860
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15426342
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/towokuwusatsuwu/pseuds/towokuwusatsuwu
Summary: hirai has always taken care of himself until a chance encounter with hayashi ranmaru changes his way of life and opens new horizons to him. taking control of his life and refusing to be a victim anymore sounds like a change to make.





	from then to now (and everything between)

“Get out.” His father’s voice has never sounded like this before and Hirai tenses, his back pressed against the wall of his small bedroom, his hands trembling just out of sight beneath the overly long sleeves of his sweatshirt. “I don’t want you in my house.”

The tension between them has been rising steadily higher with every passing day it seems; Hirai does his best to hide his own internal revelations, magazines secreted away in his backpack and under his mattress and he is never stupid enough to bring a boy home with him. His father has always been nearly militant about how much he hates men like his own son; a trip to the city had given them the sight of a man and his partner holding hands on the street. Hirai’s father had wished them death under his breath, gripping the steering wheel until his knuckles bled white while Hirai stared out the window, wishing he was anywhere but next to his father.

They keep away from each other in the house, Hirai always remembering he was the product of a relationship neither of his parents was ever happy trapped within. He’d woken up one morning when he was eight years old to find his mother gone and no trace of her left behind, not even a wisp of perfume because she never wore any. Leaving him behind with his father and a lifetime of issues paved in front of him, waiting for him to walk the inevitable path.

His mattress is flipped over and thrown against the closet door, the few magazines he dared to keep in the house on the floor between them. An accusation he could not deny if he wanted to, and he’s never wanted to have to deny it. His heart thumps dangerously hard against his ribs and he bites down hard on his lower lip, looking anywhere but at his father.

“I shouldn’t known. You’re her son. A deviant.” The tone of his father’s voice drips pure venom as he turns toward the door. “Get your shit and get out. You’ve got fifteen minutes and you better be glad I’m willing to give you that much.”

As soon as the bedroom door slams shut, Hirai tips his head back, squeezing his eyes shut against the sudden onrush of tears. Maybe this is his fault for being stupid enough to keep the magazines where his father could find them. Maybe he should have accepted long ago that no matter what he thinks about himself, no one is ever going to look twice at him, haunted eyes and bratty mouth that runs ahead of his brain.

The tears sting his eyes and he curses himself, pressing his sleeve against his face. This isn’t how a man should act, and he knows it. But he has no choice but to let the tears fall as he picks up his backpack and shoves as many clothes as he can fit into it, struggling to mentally catalogue what he might need to live on the streets.

Maybe his mother was right to leave him here after all.

* * *

“Doubt have been through here,” an unfamiliar voice says. “Did you see all the bodies?”

Another person whistles low. “Yeah I did. That Ranmaru guy doesn’t fuck around, does he? Probably a fucking miracle any of them survived whatever he did to them.”

The conversation catches Hirai’s attention where he sits at the bar between two men who have been fawning over him for the majority of the night, plying him with drinks and sweet words in an effort to take him home. Every so often one of them dares to touch him, a hand on his cheek or at his waist, fingers slipping just under the bottom of his t-shirt but only to brush a hint of bare skin before backing away again, clearly not trying to scare him off. He likes the easy attention that a pretty face earns him even if none of the men he lets have him ever measure up to his standards. That’s why none of them are allowed to stay and all of them are forced to leave.

He has standards, and he knows how impossible they are to live up to, and no part of him has ever cared because as far as he is concerned, he is more than owed his due. Life has never been exceptionally kind to him, so he is kind to himself and demands it from others.

“Doubt always does shit like that. Don’t know how Ranmaru gets away with it without getting taken in by the cops,” a third person says.

Hirai smiles at the man in front of him, cocks his head like he’s listening intently to whatever the guy is saying though his attention is turned toward the conversation at the nearest table.

“Heard he’s been in and out of there since it was just juvie but the cops can’t ever keep him pinned down.” The first person sounds almost excited to say this. “He always fights his way away from them and there’s nothing they’ve ever been able to do to slow him down.”

The second person makes a noise. “Heard the last time a cop tried to take him in, Ranmaru knocked the dude’s teeth down his throat. Had to pump his stomach to get them out.”

“Jesus,” the third person says. “What kind of monster does shit like that?”

_ An interesting one, _ Hirai thinks in the back of his mind.

Doubt seem more like a fairy tale than a reality to him; the men in all black who steal women away and sell them for money led by a monster in dark fur that everyone has heard of but few people claim to have seen. Ranmaru is a monster of a man to hear the tales, hollow eyes filled with black venom and a drive to fight that no one can contain or best him in. Hirai has been in this city for most of his life— he had to go  _ somewhere _ when his father kicked him out— and he’s never seen Ranmaru and he’s  _ maybe _ seen Doubt, but who can be sure?

Black is such a neutral and popular color, after all.

“You wanna get out of here?” The man behind Hirai asks, kissing the side of his neck.

“Mm.” Hirai’s eyes drift closed and he leans back; the man in front of him leans in to kiss him properly on the mouth and though he tastes like booze, it’s better than nothing. Most things are. “I suppose so. Are you going to share me? I could get into that.”

The first man makes a considering noise in his throat. “You sure you can handle that?”

“You treat me right and I can take both of you at once.” Hirai grins when the response he gets is two sharp intakes of breath, hands all over his body.

He doesn’t mind the attention so much though he knows others would have shied away at the touches of men who want to use them for sex and nothing more. His standards are simply too high for most to achieve and he has no desire to spend the night along with his hand, so this is the next best thing. For a few blissful hours, he can roll through the sheets with men attractive enough to catch his eye if not keep him, and that can be satisfying in its way.

His drinks are paid for and he finds himself escorted out of the club, an arm around his waist and another around his shoulders. Around the edges, his brain is fuzzy and maybe he’s too horny to properly process what he sees before stepping into the car. Black is such a neutral color, after all, and maybe he imagines a man stepping out of the back, the bulk of his body hidden beneath dark fur. Then they leave, and Hirai forgets about it.

* * *

“Sorry, sorry!” He throws his hands up when a man jostles him too hard in the back, sending him flying into the person in front of him, knocking into them far harder than he would ever intend on doing. “I didn’t mean to run into you like that.”

The person who turns to face him furrows her brows at him, an unimpressed look on her face. “Oh, it’s fine. The men in this club are too rowdy in the first place.”

“Ah, I agree. It’s awful.” Hirai laughs, and the sound is too loud based on the way the stranger winces. But he’s been drinking for the last hour or so, determined to forget about the rest of his day and maybe find someone to take home with him. “Are you here with your boyfriend?”

There are women who come to visit clubs whose primary purpose is for men looking for other men, women who hate the way straight men treat them but who want to have a good time. Hirai can hardly fault them for the choice and tries to be sweet when he can, wanting them to know these places are usually safe except for the freaks who think that women’s bodies are there for them to objectify even though they aren’t attracted to women in the first place.

The woman blinks twice at him before nodding once; a man with long black hair seems to materialize beside her out of the crowd. “Yes, I am.”

“Well, you two have a good time!” Hirai claps his hands together once. “And if anyone bothers you and you want them thrown out, let me know. I know the bouncer.”

He knows almost every bouncer for every major club in the city and has blown more than half of them, always trying to get that much further ahead. The woman raises a brow at him but says nothing and nods once, she and her boyfriend disappearing into the crowd once more. Hirai watches them go, thinking they make such a cute couple, before he pulls himself off of the dance floor and approaches the bar feeling like his legs are going to give out at any moment.

There’s a mirror running behind the bar shelving and he can see himself in it, long hair wild and eyes dark, face flushed and clothes awry. He probably looks a mess to most people but that doesn’t seem to stop a man at the bar from giving him an up-down just the same.

The bartender raises an eyebrow at him, coming up to him when Hirai flags him down. “You good? You look like it’s been a night for you,” he quips.

Hirai rolls his eyes, seating himself at the bar. “I’m good!” He singsongs the words, spinning around on the barstool just a little. “Just get me a water, though, I’m dying.”

Predictably, the bartender scoffs. “You good or dying? It can’t be both.”

“Why not?” Hirai demands, puckering his lips into the best pout he has in his arsenal.

If he was less drunk and maybe more in control of his faculties, he might have noticed the abnormal amount of black clothing in the room tonight. Still, he notices nothing, his eyes threatening to droop shut. He doesn’t even realize he’s about to fall off of his barstool until the world tilts and before he can properly react, a pair of arms cinch around his waist, haul him back up onto the stool, staying in place until he can right himself.

“Who’s my knight in shining armor?” Hirai demands, turning around to see an unfamiliar man standing behind him in head-to-toe black, the club lights reflecting off of his shaved head. “Oh, you’re… Tall. Do I know you? I haven’t seen you around here before.”

The man rolls his eyes. “You haven’t. Don’t fall off or you’re going to get stepped on.”

“That’s a good point,” Hirai admits. His hand darts out lightning quick when the man tries to walk away from him, surprisingly fast considering he can barely keep himself upright. “Unless you’re into that. I’m not so much but I can be swayed.”

“No.” The man shakes him off and Hirai pouts at him. “Don’t. It’s not going to work. Get yourself home before you let the wrong man take you home for the night.”

His knight in shining armor— shining  _ black _ armor, and isn’t there something about black that Hirai is forgetting? — walks away then, disappearing into the crowd once more. Hirai heaves a sigh and turns back to the bar, a little delighted noise leaving his lips when he finds a bottle of water sat in front of him. He’s downed half of it in one gulp, the bartender raising an eyebrow at him, eyes still half-focused on the crowd.

“Who was that?” he asks. “You were hitting on him. Usually you’re not into ugly men.”

Hirai hums, pushing his messy hair back off of his forehead. “Well,” he says slowly, dragging the word out and giggling at how it sounds on his clumsy tongue, “ugly men can be good men, too.”

“If you say so, Hirai.” The bartender doesn’t look like he believes him.

* * *

Hirai finally meets Hayashi Ranmaru in the middle of a street fight.

He has  _ gay _ written all over him and he knows it, carries it like a badge of pride even though his identity has led to more suffering than he can put into words. Not just his father throwing him out, not just the cruel way the world treats him, but enough self-esteem issues and problems with his own identity that he can’t help but broadcast it to the world. No one mistakes him for anything but what he is, so when a group of men jump him in an alley, he’s already prepared to handle them. It wouldn’t be the first time men have jumped him, after all.

And he can fight. No one expects it of him, small-framed and pretty-faced; his hands are scarred over from so many battles, muscles hidden beneath his skin. He has three of the men down and is closing in on the fourth and fifth when someone else joins the fray. The other person has the last two assailants down before Hirai can take a breath and he just stares as the man straightens up, a black fur coat hanging off of him, swamping his frame.

“I didn’t  _ need _ help,” he spits out, arms folded over his chest. “Contrary to appearances, I can take care of myself just fine. I don’t need your help or anyone else’s.”

“Ah.” The man’s voice is surprisingly deep; when he steps closer and the moonlight peeking over the edge of the rooftop above them hits his face, Hirai is startled at how  _ young _ he looks to have a voice like that and a fighting ability that powerful. “I knew you could handle it, but when there’s blood to spill I find I can’t quite help myself.”

Hirai  _ hmphs _ and lifts his chin, not impressed. “Stay out of my way next time.”

The man’s dark eyes flash with something dangerous and violent and Hirai feels a chill run down his spine at the sight, taking a step back. “You shouldn’t talk to me like that.”

“Are you going to hit me, then? You’d be no better than them if you did.” Hirai jerks his chin toward the men barely moving on the ground.

The man looks thoughtful for a moment, head tilting to the side. “I suppose that’s correct.”

“Do you want to fight?” Hirai stays still though he has the urge both to run and to step into his man’s personal space, shove him back for daring to treat him like this. “I won’t run.”

“You  _ do _ have such an attitude. Other people, I’ve beaten unconscious for less. It’s almost cute on you, though.” The man laughs and, instead of offering a fist, offers a hand. “Ranmaru.”

The name sounds vaguely familiar but Hirai is too jumped up on adrenaline to think too hard about it. Instead, he takes Ranmaru’s hand and squeezes it. “I’m Hirai.”

“Take care of yourself, Hirai.” Ranmaru is already turning away and Hirai might be imagining it, but he thinks he sees more people in black tucked into the shadows.

It’s only when Hirai is almost to his apartment when he remembers why the name Ranmaru should be familiar to him.

_ Doubt’s leader. _

* * *

Doubt, as it turns out, are everywhere.

After the initial brush with Ranmaru, Hirai sees them everywhere and pays them little mind, though he does notice them finally. He also notices the mysterious, slowly-growing group who call themselves the White Rascals, standing against them. It gives him a lot to think about and a lot to consider; he remembers the man in all black who caught him in the bar, the way Ranmaru had looked at him like a particularly interesting animal instead of a person. Hirai turns his thoughts around and around in his head, asks himself why he even cares, and finds himself thinking about it all over again.

He shows up at Doubt’s rumored headquarters, muttering to himself about the inconvenience of dragging two unconscious men across the city in the trunk of his car. He leaves them at Hayashi Ranmaru’s feet like a cat bringing home dead birds to its owner.

Ranmaru’s eyes are dark as they stare him, an amused smile toying at the corner of his lips. “There you are,” he says, and Hirai frowns at him. “I remember you. From the alley.”

“That’s me.” Hirai beams at him, unsurprised to find the bald man from the club on Ranmaru’s right side, though he does wonder what he would have been doing there in the back of his mind. “I’ve brought you a present to thank you for the help I never asked for.”

Ranmaru snorts, lifting his chin from his chest, eyes nearly black as they stare Hirai down. “I’m shocked,” he says plainly. “I didn’t think you had such a thing in you.”

Hirai hums, folds his hands in front of him and sends Ranmaru his best smile. “You have no idea what I’m capable of, Ranmaru-san.”

“I suppose that’s true.” Ranmaru stands slowly and with the coat, he cuts an impressive silhouette though HIrai wonders how much this amount of fur is hiding. “Is this just a present, Hirai? I’ll accept it. But I don’t think you would have come all the way here if it was.”

Oh, he’s good. “Not  _ really, _ ” Hirai admits. “Couldn’t you use one more member in Doubt?”

When Ranmaru smiles, it’s slow and not quite right, and there’s something dangerous in it, but Hirai finds it all the more charming. “We can always use more members as long as they’re willing to prove they can fight and do the job. You’ve proven the former, I have to say. Between this and the alley, it looks like you can take care of yourself just fine.”

“Someone has to,” Hirai quips.

“What a pragmatic view.” Ranmaru holds out a hand and Hirai takes it without a second thought, only just startled when Ranmaru uses the grip to yank Hirai forward, nearly tripping him on the unconscious bodies at their feet. “We can use a view like that in Doubt.”

“Ranmaru,” the bald man says, a clear note of disbelief in his voice, “you don’t even know anything about this man. He could be a spy of the White Rascals for all we know.”

Ranmaru shakes his head once. “He’s not. Trust me on that. We need him.”

* * *

Coming out is not even on Hirai’s mind when he takes his place with Doubt; Ranmaru seems to know without having to be told, but then Hirai wears his identity on his sleeve and has never hidden any part of himself away so he doubts that it would be up for debate. No one seems to care; they come in to do the job and get paid, and that’s it. Hirai likes that, though the work is not exactly easy. He supposes the others must be numbed to it, though it takes him time to get used to the rhythm of it, the women who look like they want to be anywhere else but where they are.

It’s a starkly different principle than the man he used to be, the one who would have swooped in to defend a woman if need be. Things change.  _ People _ change just to survive.

Hirai is tired of merely surviving. He wants to  _ thrive _ .

He works his way up the ranks in Doubt faster than anyone else ever has, according to what he finds himself being told. Not that he cares or really tries that hard; he has a penchant for the business and can harden himself when need be, can be cruel when the time arises to do such a thing. How many times has he been victimized in his life? He’s tired of being the victim and if this is the quickest (albeit dirtiest) way to free himself from such a life, then so be it.

Ranmaru told him to take care of himself. That’s all he cares about now.

It doesn’t stop the others from hating him, particularly Takano Masato, the man Hirai once thought of as his knight in shining armor. The man who had been prowling the club with more of his own, looking for the women foolish enough to think they might be safe in such a place. Hirai is only slightly surprised when he learns the woman and her boyfriend he had spoken to were also members of Doubt, though former members.

He’s amused to learn they’re White Rascals now, only just barely. People change, after all.

This evening, he finds himself at Ranmaru’s apartment, a special privilege he earned by proving his worth, stretched out on his back on the couch. He has an arm folded underneath his head, his eyelids half-shut, enjoying the warmth of the apartment, the thought that Ranmaru trusts him enough to be here. When he hears footsteps— Ranmaru had disappeared to shower long ago— he tilts his head toward his leader’s return.

Then he sits up slowly, his exhausted brain working to make sense of this.

Truth be told, even home, Ranmaru tends to keep the fur on, something Hirai thought was funny at first but started to wonder about eventually. He thinks Ranmaru only keeps it on around people, using it as some kind of shield, and now he has his answer. Without the coat, in just a t-shirt and a pair of boxers— black, of course, because  _ of course _ — the shape of his body is different, and Hirai pulls his lower lip between his teeth.

“Surprised?” Ranmaru raises an eyebrow at him before he drops down in a chair, slouching comfortably. “I wondered what your reaction would be when I told you.”

“I guess I didn’t think much about it. Just thought you were tolerant of me, more than most.” Hirai had been wrong; Ranmaru isn’t tolerant as much as he’s no doubt faced similar struggles if not worse ones. “I’m not going to go off on you, if that’s what you expect. You’re still a man in my eyes and still the leader who took me in. Nothing can change that.”

Ranmaru smirks. “Correct,” he says, holding out a hand. “Come here.”

Hirai pulls himself off of the couch with only a slight whine, taking Ranmaru’s hand, squeaking when Ranmaru yanks him down into his lap, smoothing a hand up his back as he makes himself comfortable. He’s sat in many men’s laps before, but this is new for him, and he does his best not to put his hands anywhere, afraid to brace them on Ranmaru’s chest for balance, to touching somewhere he absolutely does not have permission to.

“You can touch me,” Ranmaru says, tipping his head back, a pleased smile on his lips, and it makes Hirai shiver to know he put that expression there. “My body is my own and I will not allow anyone to claim it in my place or against my will. Every part of it, even the parts of it that I’ve been told don’t belong on a man.”

“Okay.” Hirai leans in to kiss him, to taste Ranmaru’s full lips against his own, savoring the way Ranmaru lets him have this when Ranmaru has never let anyone have anything.

* * *

“Are you sure he’s going to be okay?” Hirai is a mess of nerves as he paces around the apartment, eyeing the cell phone perched on Ranmaru’s thigh.

Ranmaru raises an eyebrow at him. “Takano? He’s fine. I told you it was a simple enough mission. He’ll call in about an hour or so.”

Why he finds himself worried about a man who seems to hate him so much, Hirai has no idea. The way Takano looks at him makes him feel small and stupid even on the best days, sharp words making his lower lip wobble even though he  _ knows _ Takano must have his reasons. But he finds himself upset just the same even though Ranmaru keeps telling him this is routine, that Takano hardly needs the men he took with him to make it back out of this.

Maybe the stress is finally getting to him. Maybe he’s losing his mind.

“Hirai.” Ranmaru’s voice is sharp, sudden, and Hirai jumps at the sound of it. “He’s  _ fine. _ Takano has done this a thousand times before.”

“A-are you sure?” Hirai sits down on the couch beside Ranmaru before his nerves have him up and moving again, twisting in the fabric of his shirt. “Things can go wrong, right?”

“They won’t,” Ranmaru says firmly.

Within ten minutes, Ranmaru’s easy comfort fades entirely into the background, Hirai’s brain white static and panic until a strained noise breaks from his throat, his eyes filling with tears instantly. It doesn’t matter that Takano is mean to him, that Takano is so harsh for no reason, that Takano seems to want him to leave Doubt and never come back. He’s part of their core group and Hirai doesn’t want anything to happen to him.

In the back of his mind, it occurs to him he’s never cried in front of Ranmaru before.

Hirai gulps in air while the panic tightens around his throat, his face hot with tears that he tries to insistently scrub away. He doesn’t realize that Ranmaru has moved until familiar arms pull him back down on the couch, pulling him in close against Ranmaru’s side, the one place he always feels safe these days. He presses his face into the fur of Ranmaru’s coat and cries, his entire body shaking, fingers knotted in Ranmaru’s coat while Ranmaru strokes his hair.

“You’re fine, it’s fine,” he says, voice soft and low, crooning and soothing. “Everything is going to be just fine. You’ll see when he comes back to tell us everything went fine.”

It’s hard to speak, to tell Ranmaru that he doesn’t think Takano is going to come back at all.

Of course, Ranmaru is right and Takano is fine. When he finally steps through the doorway of Ranmaru’s apartment, Hirai has quieted, but his face is swollen and hot and his eyes feel dry and sting. He still holds tight to Ranmaru’s coat while Ranmaru runs his fingers through his hair, trying to do what he can to keep Hirai calm. If this is enough to kick him out of Doubt, well, Ranmaru hasn’t mentioned that just yet. Hirai is still nervous, though.

“Everything went fi— What the fuck is wrong with him?” Takano’s eyes are hard when they fall on Hirai, who only sniffles up at him pitifully.

Ranmaru sighs. “He was worried about your safe return.”

“Why? It was routine. What the fuck is wrong with you?” The question is directed at Hirai, who frowns and presses himself further into Ranmaru’s side. “Do you think I’m so incompetent I can’t pull off something so simple? Because I have news for—”

“ _ Masato. _ ” The tone of Ranmaru’s voice shuts Takano up immediately. “He thought no such thing. He was genuinely worried, so don’t speak to him like that. You should be thanking him for being worried because it means he  _ cares. _ You remember what caring is like, don’t you?”

Takano heaves a sigh, eyes rolled heavenward, before he slowly raises an arm. “Fine. Come here, brat. If you’re so worried after all, you can check for injuries— Hey!”

Hirai slams into him so hard they both end up on the floor, Takano just barely avoiding smashing the back of his head into the carpet. Ranmaru shrieks laughter from behind them but Hirai only clings to Takano, beyond grateful to see he’s okay and alive and that everything went according to plan, not caring if he looks ridiculous in the process. He’s content to be the fool of the group as long as Takano and Ranmaru always come home safe and sound.

He tries not to think too much of the way Takano sighs and settles an arm around his waist.


End file.
